


If You Can't Be with the One You Hate

by Tethysian



Series: Love the One You're With [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alpha Hux, Alpha Poe Dameron, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Belting, Consensual Violence, Endgame Kylux, Felching, Hux is emotionally constipated, Intercrural Sex, Jealousy, Knotting, Kylo has a lot of sex, Light Dom/sub, Loss of Control, M/M, Masochism, Murder Fantasies, Omega Kylo Ren, Orgasm Denial, Poe is scared and horny, Possessive Behavior, Praise Kink, S&M, Slapping, Violent Sex, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-23
Updated: 2016-01-30
Packaged: 2018-05-15 17:21:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5793304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tethysian/pseuds/Tethysian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fill for a kink meme prompt.</p><p>At Snoke's request Hux has always helped Kylo through his heats, albeit reluctantly. Then Kylo happens to go into heat while a prisoner aboard a resistance ship. Poe is the lucky(?) alpha chosen to take care of him, and Kylo discovers he might prefer an enthusiastic partner. Hux discovers something else about himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The original prompt: http://tfa-kink.dreamwidth.org/1082.html?thread=712506#cmt712506
> 
> All of the hard kink/violent sex will be in chapter tree, the first two ought to be somewhat fit for regular consumption.  
> This is my firs time writing a/b/o. I never considered it my thing, yet here I am, writing it. I blame this trash heap of a ship.

Kylo Ren has a lot of things to be miserable about. In comparison to his lacklustre childhood and constant emotional anguish, being an omega is a minor inconvenience. A triviality; hardly worth working himself up over. 

Unless, of course, someone else is making an issue out of it.

They're reporting to Snoke but Kylo can't spare his master a glance now, too busy glaring holes into General Hux who stands at his side, primly poised as if he hasn't just stabbed Kylo in the back - _again_. 

They've spent three months together on the _Finalizer_ , but it took Kylo a lot less than that to despise him. 

Hate builds up, hot and molten in his chest until he's choking on it, and even star systems apart he feels the ghost of his master's approval.

"I understand you have some grievances, General," Snoke says pleasantly.

"You will regret this," Kylo growls at Hux. 

Hux spares him a glance out of the corner of his eye. "I am merely looking out for the best interest of my command, Kylo Ren, it's nothing _personal._ " He sneers, drawls out the last world like it's some disease Kylo might infect him with. 

He addresses Snoke, back straight, diction clear and forcefully punctuated like he's delivering one of his speeches. "Prolonged exposure to the pheromones and _destructive outbursts_ produced by Lord Ren's periodical cycle is causing tension amongst the ranks. The soldiers are all on suppressants, but distraction among the officers damage the overall efficiency of the crew.

"It is my immediate recommendation that Lord Ren be entrusted to a partner during his heat, thus shortening the duration of his... affliction and, _we may only hope_ , alleviating the adverse effect it has on his already erratic temper-"

"I do not need someone to keep me _placid_." Kylo spits. "And your authority does not extend to my behaviour."

"You injured three perfectly good soldiers in the cafeteria when they failed to meet your dietary requirements!"

"Perhaps General Hux ought to instruct his troops not to talk back at me."

"They told you we didn't have any mallow on board!"

"Silence." Snoke doesn't raise his voice, he never needs to. Kylo can see the involuntary ticks of annoyance on the General's face and is glad his own is hidden behind the mask. 

"Stronger suppressants and an adjustment to the menu is sufficient," Kylo says. Snoke looks down on them with what might pass for amusement on his scarred face. Or sadistic glee.

"The budget might have funds to spare for Lord Ren's _discerning palate_ if we weren't forced to put so much of it towards petty repairs." 

"We've spoken of this before, apprentice," Snoke reminds him, completely ignoring Hux, which is much less satisfying than it usually is. "When I sent you on your mission you assured me you didn't need a partner. Perhaps you were premature in your assessment, hmm?"

Kylo doesn't answer him, knowing it won't do him any good. He looks down at the floor, hating that he must concede to his master in this matter as well, but not as much as he hates, hates, _hates_ Hux.

"I've decided," the Supreme Leader decrees. "Kylo will see a partner during his heats, and who better to aid him than you, General. I'm sure your concern won't be misplaced."

"What?" Hux says, and it's a testament to how rattled he is that he blurts that out in front of the Supreme Leader.

Kylo reaches for him, just enough to whisper _I told you so_ into his mind. 

It isn't as satisfying as it usually is. 

\----

Hux has never made a practice out of pursuing omegas the way he knows some alphas do. Frankly he has always had more important things to do with his time, like constructing weapons of mass destruction and commanding the First Order flagship and planning world domination. He has always found betas to be sufficient to see him through his ruts. 

When the time comes for him to pass on the family name his father will undoubtedly find any number of suitable prospects to throw at him, but it isn't something Hux spares much thought. 

_Never use an omega where a beta would do_ , was the usual saying at the academy. Never uttered aloud, but in confidential whispers behind closed doors and cupped hands. Usually by elderly instructors who were much too easily distracted by their omega students, but Hux supposes some of that must have stuck. 

The fact is that there aren't very many omegas on the _Finalizer_. The storm troopers are all designation beta by birth or chemical treatment. The few officers who are of the _gentler designation_ have always dealt with their biological imperatives discreetly - out of sight and out of mind, as far as Hux is concerned. 

Unlike Kylo Ren who spends the week surrounding his heat chopping off arms and pushing people over railings. Even when he finally confines himself to his cabin the droids that are tasked with feeding him aren't safe. 

 

Roughly two months after their conversation with the Supreme Leader, Hux presents himself in Lord Ren's private cabin after he receives his message. It's late by at least two days. Hux has been waiting for it - he wonders whether Ren has been putting it off in the hopes of getting out of their arrangement, or if his incompetence extends to his own biology and he just doesn't realize when he's going into heat.

Ren is waiting for him. He's dressed in a black robe but without the protection of his armour he looks even lankier than usual. His face is bared and Hux almost doesn't recognize him for the few time he's seen him without the mask. 

He can't prevent the deep breath he takes when he crosses the threshold or the way Ren's scent invades him, forces his body to betray him. He fists his hands together behind his back until he hears the leather creaking.

"Lord Ren." 

"General." They greet each other stoically and Hux can't remember a single time he has hated Kylo Ren more.

Ren sweeps back the last of the drink in his glass and refills it before he offers it to Hux. Hux would balk at sharing a glass but it seems silly under the circumstances, and he accepts it for the paltry peace offering it is.

Ren looks petulant but Hux doesn't know him well enough to tell if it's because he's sulking or if it's just the natural set of his mouth. His eyes reflect the light a bit too well and Hux is struck by the horrifying thought that he might start weeping. He has no idea exactly how emotionally compromised omegas usually are during a heat, but he knows which end of the spectrum Kylo Ren would inevitably fall on. 

"It is not my intention to hurt you. I won't be needlessly cruel or callous."

Ren scoffs, takes the glass back when Hux finishes with it and leaves it on the closest flat surface. Untidy. 

"You couldn't hurt me if you tried, General. Should I offer you the same reassurance?"

For the first time Hux feels genuine apprehension for the task he's about to undertake. The galaxy is abundant with creatures who kill or consume their partners during mating, after all, and however ludicrous the idea is, there is absolutely nothing he would put past Kylo Ren. Certainly not decapitating him just for the hell of it.

Ren's mouth curves upward in amusement for a brief second before he schools his face back into impassivity. Hux is taken aback by how unguarded he is without the mask. Kylo Ren can't control his face any better that the rest of him, and worse than that, he has a kind face. 

Weak.

 

He surprises Hux with his eagerness. With how easily his body accepts Hux inside of him; how wet he is for it. His mouth is soft and pliant unlike the hands that leave rings of bruises over Hux's arms and gouges down his back if he doesn't take precautions, which he does.

He turns Ren over, holds him with one hand fisted in his hair to _keep him there_ and the other on his hip as he fucks him. 

Ren is noisy, not that Hux expected any different from him. He screams his throat raw at first until the noises die down into groans and whimpers every time Hux drives into him. 

Hux is transfixed by smooth skin of Ren's back, unmarked like an empty canvas; the bones and muscles shifting underneath as he twists and writhes, seemingly torn between staying and pulling away.

It doesn't take long for him to make up his mind as he gradually starts pushing back to meet Hux's thrusts, shoulder twisted awkwardly where he has one hand tucked under his body to touch himself. 

Hux is well aware of the fact that Ren could turn him inside out at any moment if Hux gave him reason to, but any thought to being careful left his mind the moment he sank inside of him. Ren doesn't sound like he's in pain - if anything he sounds frustrated and pissy whenever Hux threatens to slow down, and the sheer _selfishness_ of that only drives Hux to a more punitive pace.

Hux feels him come when his knot expands within him for the first time, locking them together. Ren turns his face into the crook of his arm, leaving Hux with the back of his head and the nape of his neck that peeks out between the tangle of his hair, dotted with beads of sweat.

He wonders if it's the first time, but he doesn't ask.

They don't speak until the following morning when Kylo grabs his arm when Hux tries to get out of bed.

"I'm not done yet." His voice is low, a little rough and his hair sticks tangled and sweaty to his face where he lies with half of it smushed into the pillows, looking at Hux over his bare shoulder like he's supposed to be falling over himself to _serve_ him. It's enraging, and somehow fills Hux with the inexplicable urge to turn him over at the same time. What the hell does he have to be coy about at this point anyway?

"You're done for now. I have a meeting in half an hour. I'll come by later." 

Ren's eyes darken. He immediately looks more like himself, even without the mask. "You can't just-"

"Expect you to manage, like an adult, for two hours while I'm gone and deal with all the things you never have to worry about even though you enjoy the rank of a commander on this vessel?" He twists his arm out of Kylo's loose grip and starts to pull his clothes back on with brisk movements. "And don't wait until the last minute next time." 

He expects Ren to keep arguing with him, perhaps the grip of invisible fingers around his neck, but the only thing he does is roll over to face the wall like the sullen child he is. 

Hux straps himself back into his uniform, feels composure restored to him with every piece fastened. It's even better when he can leave Ren's room behind him and breathe the clean sterile air in the corridor, at least for a few hours. 

He showers in his own room and by the time the meeting is finished he almost feels equipped to deal with Ren again without losing his mind.

\-----

The next time it's better.

Hux had hoped it wouldn't be, but he lives in a universe where he ended up in bed with Kylo Ren in the first place and he expects no mercy. 

Hux can't take his eyes off the stretch of Kylo's throat; shockingly pale in the absence of his usual high collar, dotted with freckles and beauty marks; the flutter of his pulse just under the skin. The need to bury his teeth there, to taste and scent even though the entire room stinks of them already, is almost overwhelming.

It's an imperative; purely biological. Fascinating the same way the curve of Kylo's hip is, or the tight clench of his body around Hux's knot, or the back of his neck when he bows his head.

It is better, Hux concedes after when he lays spent, collapsed to his side and spooning out of necessity until his knot has gone down enough for them to detach. It isn't made any easier by the way Kylo keeps fussing and shifting around, and Hux doesn't know whether it is because he's uncomfortable or because he wants more - tries not to think about it regardless. 

It's much better than any beta he has slept with because biology doesn't have any regard for their personal misgivings. Their heartbeats synchronize. Kylo's scent is pleasant, his body soft and welcoming where they are connected, squeezing down on Hux's cock whenever he moves like he's desperate to keep him inside. 

 

He gets ready to leave, but this time he feels like there's something else he ought to say while Kylo sullenly stares at him from where he sits propped up against the headboard, still undressed under the blanket he has swathed himself in. His gaze is unreadable but inevitably inflamed about something.

There's some common ground there, Hux thinks, because he feels just as frustrated. Neither of them have left the room for three days, and by the end of it Hux is too fucked out to muster any emotion beyond resignation. 

"At least you didn't wait until you were in the middle of your heat cycle this time," he says magnanimously, because he knows when to be the bigger man and everyone knows omegas like praise. "Make sure you continue to act responsibly in the future." 

\-----

Over the years their arrangement becomes less of a chore and more of a ...convenience. And when Supreme Leader Snoke asks, Hux is able to describe the it with words such as Practical. Functional. _Efficient_. Made even more so by the fact that Ren's heat cycle is like clockwork and easy to plan around. It's his most endearing quality as far as Hux is concerned. Ren is just the idiot who never keeps track of it.

Eventually Hux doesn't bother going through the usual channels to find a beta when his rut hits. Since they already have a functioning system in place it is more convenient to simply carry on as they have.

Besides, it's only fair, he tells Kylo who watches him silently from behind his dark eyes, mouth trembling, that he return the favour when Hux is forced to take time out of his busy schedule to see to him every time he goes into heat.

"Why, General," Ren says flatly. "I had no idea you were so fond of me."

_Anyone would do. You just happen to be close by_. Hux doesn't say it - that would be callous - but he does think it. 

By the next rut their cycles have synchronized and there is no need for further dramatics. 

It's Efficient.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to split this into four parts instead, so the trash will be found in chapter four. So much sex. Where did I go wrong?

Poe had never imagined that a sith (dark-force-user, knight, whatever this guy is,) would be quite that easy to capture, but he signs it off as a lucky break - one long overdue - as he marches his prisoner up the ramp to his ship.

Under normal circumstances Poe would have been forced to declare their re-supply mission irreparably fucked after they were forced to land on a deserted planet for emergency repairs, but by some miracle they got off a lucky shot and the First Order ship that had been pursuing them crashed as well.

Likewise, he had expected him and the rest of his squadron to be little more than dust on the desert sand when he saw the knight among the regular issue storm troopers, clad head to toe in black like he might as well have been screaming 'I'm important', but now they are heading back to General Organa with a valuable prisoner instead.

The prisoner staggers, knees buckling, and Poe has to dart forward and catch him by the elbow before he falls off the ramp. "Hey, hey," he says, catching him, and he can't fail to notice the way the arm under his hand is trembling. "You're not injured, are you?"

"No." Comes the curt reply and the prisoner yanks his arm out of his grip, straightening up to his significant full height.

"Heat stroke?" Poe suggests, looking over layers upon layers of black fabric and the heavy helmet, and the fact that they're on a truly sweltering desert planet. Poe can feel sweat on the back of his neck and along his hairline, and the mere thought of wearing anymore than he already is, is unbearable.

He gets no reply - not that he was expecting one. It's not until he's chucking the prisoner into one of the detainment cells that he starts feeling concerned again. The man is sounding more and more like he's hyperventilating under that mask of his, one arm curled tight over his stomach. BB-8 rolls around them making beeping noises of inquiry.

"Are you malfunctioning?" Poe asks on the droid's behalf. "I mean, are you ill? - Or malfunctioning." He quickly adds. "I'm not actually sure whether you're organic under that suit or not." He closes the cell just in case but remains inside, lowering the blaster to his hip so he can extend a less threatening hand to the prisoner. "Is that thing broken?" He asks, nodding to the mask. "Do you need it to breathe?"

The prisoner doesn't even look at him. He takes a seat on one of the two uncomfortable chairs in the room and folds his hands on his lap. "Interrogate me or leave," he says, as if he's dealing with an unwanted intruder in his audience room.

Poe rolls his eyes but leaves him to it, shutting the cell door firmly behind him.

\-----

He never does get around to the interrogating, as it turns out.

They're all leaning against the window to the cell; Poe and every other squad member who isn't actively required to keep the ship going, feeling a bit like perverted zoo keepers while they watch the prisoner inside.

BB-8 who isn't tall enough to see over the wall is rocking back and forth excitedly, curious about the commotion - an occasional and welcome weight against Poe's leg.

The prisoner has finally settled down and now sits folded in on himself in a corner of the cell. He makes an impressively small target despite his long limbs, head resting on his knees like he doesn't have the strength to hold it up anymore.

It's no wonder. He spent a lot of energy taking out his frustration on the few pieces of furniture unlucky enough to be trapped in there with him. He didn't even go for the window so he probably wasn't trying to escape, but there's a significant dent in the wall and one of the chairs is twisted beyond recognition.

The plan was to go in there freshly showered and newly fed once they were underway, offering food and polite conversation and dashing charm, just to show that, hey, they're not the bad guys here.

Poe lasted all of thirty seconds in there with him after the helmet came off. He got as far as _hey, great hair_ before the _scent_ hit him and he had to beat a strategic retreat before he did something stupid.

Raw, unbridled 'please fuck me' pheromones, and it's still clinging to his clothes now; sweet and tangy and hot like things left out in the sun too long, keeping him uncomfortably half-hard in his pants while he could really be putting that blood to better use in his upstairs brain.

They can't hear the prisoner through the transparisteel, but Poe can see his chest heaving with every laboured breath; the sweat that sticks his hair to his face and the defensive way his shoulders are curled in.

He looks about as lethal as a newborn calf.

Just... sexier.

"We can't just leave him in there," Poe says. "It's cruel. He's in pain."

Lieutenant Arana fold his arms over his chest and gives him an unimpressed look. "Cruel? Really? Like murdering innocent people and trying to take over the galaxy, that kind of cruel?"

Poe makes a conflicted sound in the back of his throat. He darts another look at the pitiful creature in the holding cell and then gives Arana his best puppy eyes.

Poe has a soft spot for omegas, he knows this, but that's how his parents raised him and he can't just stand by while one is suffering.

"Can't we just... send in the droid or something?" suggests lieutenant Muran.

Poe's gasp of outrage is drowned out by the loud bleat of protest from BB-8.

"I'm just going to assume that sexual education is lacking in your part of the galaxy, Muran, and I'm gonna ignore that," Poe says. He smiles reassuringly at BB-8 whose optic is anxiously fixed on him. "Don't worry, buddy, no one is sending you in there. Now if we could stick to the point?"

"It can't be worse than the torture the First Order has been putting people through," Arana says.

"That is not the point." Poe says. "Or maybe it is the point. It's just..."

"It's not us," Sergeant Alder says. He's young and eager to please and always willing to offer backup when Poe needs it, regardless of whether it's warranted or not.

"Exactly," Poe says with satisfaction. "So one of us is going to offer to help him. Who's volunteering?"

Arana just raises an eyebrow at him. It's his 'just you try it' eyebrow, so Poe turns his expectations to the other alphas present. Alder suddenly finds something on the wall that needs his immediate attention. Wex looks intrigued. Probably for bragging rights, but at the moment Poe is willing to take what he can get.

There's a loud crash from inside the room and all of them, BB-8 included, take a collective step back when one of the chairs bounces off the transparisteel right in front of them, leaving a small scuff mark behind.

The prisoner is curled up in a foetal position on the floor, seemingly weak and defeated and as if launching chairs at his captors is the furthest thing from his mind. There's pain etched in every line of his body but it's too late to give him suppressants now if he wasn't already on them. Poe can't imagine what it's like going through a heat alone without medical aid, let alone when you're a captive surrounded by strangers.

"You're the commander, commander." Arana reminds him, and Poe takes a deep, fortifying breath, knowing that if anyone is going to end up concussed by a chair today, it's going to be him.

"Fuck it," he says, halfway resigned and halfway exhilarated the way he always is when he's about to do something stupid. "I'm going in there. Just turn off the cameras and someone come check if I'm still alive by the next shift."

\-----

Poe edges around the overturned table which is set up as a barrier between the corner and the entrance of the cell. It isn't much of a nest but Poe sees it for what it is and approaches the omega slowly, trying to maintain a respectable distance for as long as he can.

"Uh, hello? Hi."He inches around until he can see the prisoner's face.

Poe didn't get much of a look at him before, but he's struck again by how young he looks. Innocent; certainly not a face you'd expect to see under a mask like that.

It's a face that you want to coddle and protect and cover with kisses, and a mouth you probably want to fuck, because holy hell, but Poe's hormones are going wild to the point where it's almost giving him a headache.  
  
He also sees a brow pinched in pain and the clenched jaw; the dark circles under his eyes. He's instantly glad that he didn't send in anyone younger or more aggressive, who'd have a harder time controlling themselves.

The prisoner's eyes are so dark it's hard to tell if there's any brown at all left in them, but the smell of heat and sweat and arousal intensifies for every second Poe stands next to him. His entire body is urging him on; all _fuck, fuck, fuck,_ and he needs to get a move on things as long as he can still get out of the cell if the omega says no.

"Hi," he tries again. "I know this isn't exactly ideal, but you don't look too good. I can help you out, if you want. If not, I'll make sure no one else comes in here and we'll do our best to make you comfortable."

The prisoner doesn't say anything for a while. The only sound around them is the air conditioning and the thrum of the ship's engine and his laboured breaths.

Then he rolls over onto his back, baring his belly. "Get over here," he commands, and Poe is scrambling to move before the words are even fully out of his mouth.

He doesn't walk those last few steps. Something grabs him and yanks him forward and he lands a little painfully on his knees. "What the-?" he starts, but he doesn't get a lot of time to wonder. The prisoner is already pulling at his clothes, one hand cupping Poe's cock through his clothes, and he groans helplessly.

"Wow, you cut right to the chase. Hey," he says gently, trying to catch his hands. "Slow down, sweetheart. There's no rush, let me take care of you properly, okay?"

The prisoner gives him an mistrustful look. This close Poe can see the thin brown edge around his blown pupils and the way his lashes are clinging together, like he's been crying.

He must be really far along on his heat if he's this affected. Probably in it already when their ships crashed, and Poe feels a stab of sympathy for him; almost wishes they had chosen some other First Class trash to run into just so this one could have gone on to wherever they were heading unimpeded. Then he remembers who started shooting at whom in the first place.

"Okay, let me help you get your clothes off," he amends. He pauses at the look of unease that flits over the omega's face. "Or can you do that magic thing? You don't like being touched?" He guesses. "I'll try not to but I'll probably have to touch you a little bit if we're going to do this."

The man's face is impassive but after a moment he declares; "You can touch me. Just hurry up. You'll know when you're doing something wrong," he adds, as if that isn't the most ominous fucking thing Poe has ever heard said in the bedroom.

It's just as well that he's helping because Poe has no idea what his outfit is about. It's thick, cumbersome, and stretchy; it clings to every inch of his body and it comes in more freaking layers than an onion. Poe finally helps him pull his shirt over his head, his fingers brushing over warm skin for the first time.

He has a beautiful body, like a well-kept and honed instrument. His skin is pale underneath and his chest nearly hairless except for the trail of curls below his belly button that leads down below the waist of his pants.

"Stop staring and help!"

The scent gets stronger with every layer he discards like his suit is deliberately designed to block his scent, and that's _criminal_ because it's beautiful. _He's_ beautiful, and judging by the sudden blush over the omegas cheeks, Poe is probably saying that part out loud.

The scent makes him light-headed - it's difficult to concentrate, and before he knows it he has leaned down and he's licking a wet stripe over the curve of the prisoner's hip. He makes a startled gasping sound that trails off into a moan; one shaky hand settling on top of Poe's hair but he doesn't push him away.

"Sorry," Poe mumbles. "Hit me or something if I'm going to far. Can you do that?"

Poe can feel him nodding. "Yes."

"That's good, baby," Poe praises him mindlessly. "You're doing good."

"Stop calling me names!"

Poe laughs. "Well you never did tell me your name. What would you like me to call you?"

"Kylo. Ren."

"I'm Poe. Poe Dameron."

Poe's jacket unzips itself down to his crotch and then long-fingered hands are peeling it off his shoulders.

It's one of the hottest things Poe has ever experienced and it cuts disturbingly close to some fantasies he suddenly remembers having as a teenager. Poe has seen a thing or two, but he has never been with anyone so desperate for his cock that they've resorted to magicking his clothes off.

Getting out of the rest of their clothes is a trial between Poe's clumsy hands and Ren who doesn't stop grabbing at him, but they get there.

He settles between Ren's spread legs, tries really hard not to look too intrusively because he can see how uncomfortable the omega is, baring himself not only to a stranger but one of his captors.

Ren is wet already when Poe slides a finger inside, nearly dripping with it, the slick sticking to his fingers in abundance, but he's so tight.

"You have done this before, right?" He asks, suddenly uncertain.

Ren nods, eyes closed and head resting heavily against the floor. His throat bobs when he swallows. "It's just been a while."

Poe hesitates, just for a moment, but apparently even that's too long.

"Get on with it!" Ren snaps. Overhead one of the light fixtures pops and bursts in a shower of sparks and Poe's shoulders jump up to his ears in fright. He's lucky he's so turned on or he's sure his balls would have crawled back into his body by now.

"I'm getting on with it!" he says quickly.

Ren is _really_ tight, to the point where Poe has to take it slowly no matter how much the omega growls and whines at him in frustration. Poe is awestruck, somewhere between wonder and apprehension when he bottoms out inside of him, and at a complete loss as how to please him.

It isn't the first time he has helped an omega through a heat, friends and lovers alike, but none of them have ever been this fussy. It doesn't help that he's a bit slower on the uptake than he normally would be.

"Do you want to turn over?"

"I don't know! Stop _asking_ me," Ren says, and it's an actual whine. "Just do your job."

His eyes well up. Poe can't say why his first reaction to that is _gripping fear_ , but he trusts his instincts enough to assume it's not going to turn out well for him if he doesn't calm him down.

Poe shushes him as gently as he dares to, part of him expecting a chair to the back of the head at any moment, but he feels like they've gotten through some kind of barrier, here. One of many, he's guessing.

He pulls out, ignoring Ren's vehement sounds of disapproval. "It's gonna be okay. Just roll over on your side first, can you do that?"

"Don't patronize me," Ren glowers, but he does as Poe asks.

"You're making it really difficult no to, but I'll do my best."

He directs the omega down on his side and spoons up behind him, and this time he pushes through the initial resistance without pausing because there's no mistaking Ren's sigh of relief. He's obviously more comfortable like this. Poe prefers the intimacy of being face to face, but it's good, tucked up with his face against Ren's shoulder where his scent is stronger.

His own desire burns in his groin and every muscle in his thighs, and he constantly has to keep himself from going too fast, too hard, but Ren doesn't seem to mind, equally responsive to soft, slow lovemaking as he is to a harder pace.

With how long it has been building up, Poe doesn't expect either of them to last very long the first time and he feels his knot forming embarrassingly quickly.

Ren's entire body freezes up when Poe reaches around to put his hand on his cock. It's hot to the touch and leaking generously and he must be dying to come by now. Ren holds his breath, exhales shakily when Poe slowly strokes down, pushing the shaft through the grip of his fist. "Is that okay?" he asks, softly so as not to provoke the beast, but Ren only nods, gasps at the upstroke and moans when Poe does it again.

"Don't stop."

"I won't."

He makes Ren come first, and the sweet clench of his body sends Poe following him. Immediately he can feel the omega relaxing and he wraps one arm around him, letting his free hand lay warm across his belly while they doze.

Poe doesn't even have to pull out between the next round. He's brought out of his daze when Ren grabs his hand and slowly guides it down to his cock. Poe's knot has gone down but he's hard inside of him again and it's the easiest thing in the world just to pull Ren's hips flush against him and keep going.

After the second time they drop off into a deeper sleep, and when Poe wakes up the next time he feels like he's gotten at least a couple of hours in.

Ren's overheated body has cooled down a bit during the night and he looks a bit more alert, certainly a lot calmer than he was before. He hums with pleasure and turns his head into Poe's touch when he strokes through his hair.

"Feeling better?"

He nods but he won't quite meet Poe's eyes for any prolonged period of time, like he's shy or unaccustomed to dealing with people face to face. Poe supposes that might be what the mask is for, or possibly a side-effect of wearing it, but he tries not to be too intrusive all the same.  
  
Someone has been by to check up on them and there's a tray of water and nutrients pushed in through the hatch in the door.

Poe gets as much food and water in them as he can. Ren bears with him for a while but he quickly grows impatient and the nutrient supplements don't hold his interest at all, which isn't surprising since they're the very epitome of uninteresting.

He pulls Poe down on top of him, and in this, at least, he isn't shy at all. It's seems a forgone conclusion for Poe to go further and close the space between them, but the moment his lips touches Ren's he hears him draw in a sharp breath.

His eyes are open when Poe slowly pulls back, but he doesn't look offended - something more bewildered in his face as his tongue darts out to wet his lips, and Poe is sure he can't keep the astonishment off his own.

Ren turns away from him and Poe almost asks him he if can kiss him again, just because that wasn't much of a kiss if his suspicions are correct, and he can't wrap his head around the contradiction of an omega who isn't on suppressants yet doesn't expect to be kissed when he's in heat.

"Come on," Ren urges him, but there's no phantom force pulling at Poe this time when he presses up behind him. Ren moves against him eagerly but he hisses between his teeth when Poe's fingers breech him.

"Are you sore?" he murmurs, stroking his hand over Ren's belly and littering kisses over his shoulder in apology. "I can take care of that."

He turns Ren over which takes some coaxing but most of the fight has gone out of him. He's relaxed now, limbs loose and easy under Poe's guidance - _trusting_ , and that feels as good as his scent and the touch of his skin because there's nothing quite like that high, when an omega wants you.

"You're being so good," Poe praises him. "And I'm going to take such good care of you," he promises, heart already congesting with warmth and affection, and he falls in love too easily, he knows that. It's not really that much of a problem. Judging by the way Ren blushes and his eyes dart away, praise isn't something he hears often enough.

Poe takes his time moving down his torso, kissing and caressing, letting himself become distracted by the swell of Ren's pecs and the nipples that pebble under his tongue, the scattering of spots trailing down his torso to his groin. His cock is half-hard, still recovering, and Poe ignores it for now, slides his hands under Ren's thighs and urges him to spread them, which he does - beautifully compliant as Poe tucks his shoulders under his knees and slides his hands under his hips.

"Tilt your hips up, okay?" he instructs, thrilling every time the omega listens and does as he says. "Thank you, baby, that's good," he says, already forgetting that pet names are supposed to be off the table, but then again, so has Ren.

Poe spreads him open with his thumbs and Ren tenses up again, holds his breath, but lets Poe look at him even when his body shivers.

His opening is swollen, pink but not to the point where Poe would be concerned. He's glistening wet all the way down his thighs; white streaks of come and his own clear lubricant clinging to his skin.

Poe groans at the first taste of it on his tongue; salty and made a little bit acrid by his come, but _sweet_ under that and he can't believe no one has eaten this sweet ass out before; he could do it for hours.

Poe loses track of time, the only thing on his mind is the scent of sex and the slick on his tongue and the clench of the omega squeezing down on his fingers, gently, shyly almost, and it drive shim a little wild. It's only when he pulls back for a breather and sees how pink the insides of Ren's thighs are that he realizes it might be uncomfortable.

"Is that too rough for you, sweetheart? I haven't exactly had time to shave." He runs his thumb over the skin there, hot with friction and glowing pink and so soft that he can't resist scraping his teeth over it, gently. Ren yelps and moans with the same breath and Poe soothes the area with a kiss.

"Don't stop." It might have been a command a few hours ago but it's too breathless now. His knees around Poe's shoulders draw close like he's trying to keep him from leaving, and it's disturbing how prepossessingly endearing Poe finds him in that moment. How enthralling the mewling sound he makes when Poe crooks his fingers back inside of him is.

He comes just like that, taking the both of them by surprise; shooting off in white streaks over his belly without as much as a touch and Poe groans like he's the one coming apart.

He's so turned on he can already see the first swell of the knot at the base of his cock as it nudges against Ren's thigh, feeling crudely sticky and dirty against all that soft skin.

Blushing, Ren glances down at him, looking both embarrassed and guilty when he should be neither. "You haven't-"

"That's okay." Poe breathes. "Let me show you something else."

Ren eyes him warily, but he turns over without so much as rolling his eyes when Poe nudges him.

"Clench your thighs together. Just like that," he sighs, guiding his cock in between Ren's legs.

Between his own leaking cock and the slick already coating the inside of Ren's thighs, they don't need much in the form of lubrication. His skin is a smooth, tight fit over Poe's cock. Poe can feel every shiver in his muscles and the heat of his body, just as well as being inside of him but dirtier somehow.

Poe is so close to coming when Ren reaches back, clumsily brushing his fingers over Poe's cock until he can close his hand around him.

"This. Inside."

"That's- that's not really," Poe tries because the gland is already forming but Ren squeezes down on him mercilessly. " _Fuck!_ Okay. Stop doing that, it isn't helping."

He isn't sure how he manages to stave off his orgasm, but he does. He's afraid it isn't going to fit considering how tense Ren was earlier, but it does, _just_ , and Poe comes as soon as he slips inside, Ren's muscles clamping down around him in response.

They settle down for the tie, Poe feeling oddly shaken but Ren seems content and isn't that what Poe is there for anyway? He rests his sweaty brow against the back of Ren's neck and waits for his heartbeat to come down.

"You're something else."

Ren makes a noncommittal sound and appropriates Poe's arm for a headrest, their fingers tangling together under the weight of his head. "Thank you," he says softly. 

 


	3. Chapter 3

It's certainly one of the most eventful heats Poe has ever been part of. Once Ren relaxes and Poe stops expecting to be brained by flying debris, he would even go as far as to say they have a good time.  
  
He has no idea what's going to happen to Ren once they make it back to the rest of the resistance army, but for now Poe is determined to do everything he can for him. That includes passing on as much wisdom he can in their limited amount of time.

He makes his way down Kylo's torso, hears the omega's breath speed up in anticipation as his mouth trails lower. One hand cautiously comes to rest on his shoulder, kneading restlessly until Poe covers with it with his own and gives him his most reassuring smile.

"That's right, you can touch me. I like it, too."

He guides the hand to his hair which Ren clutches at like a lifeline, his strong fingers tightening just enough to pull pleasantly at Poe's scalp.

"Give me a tug if you're uncomfortable, okay?" He licks a wet stripe along the underside of Ren's cock, feeling it jump against his tongue and Ren's fingers tightening in his hair before he fills his mouth with it.

He doesn't dwell on the wide, blown look in Ren's eyes or the tremor in his thighs and assumes that this is another first time for him.

Better him than someone else, Poe thinks; at least he knows what he's doing. He becomes even more determined to make sure Ren enjoys himself, because even evil asshole First Order omegas deserve that; someone to look after them when they're vulnerable. Whoever has been doing it so far obviously hasn't been doing a very good job.

And Ren is enjoying it. Breath shallow and punctuated with little gasps that sound increasingly like Poe's name, his fingers reaching down to stroke over Poe's stubbled cheek. Poe moans and rub his thumb over the still-raw inside of Ren's thigh, just to recall the memory of it.

A low thundering that sounds distinctively like laser cannons runs through the ship like a tremor. Poe lifts his head up, and it's fortunate or he could have caused some serious damage a moment later when the entire ship shudders violently under the next barrage, sounding much closer now.

Something hit the hull.

In the next second the alarm goes off signifying that they're under attack. Poe staggers to his feet, stumbling more than a few times as he pulls his pants over his legs with the mindless efficiency that comes with thoroughly ingrained training.

"Stay here," he needlessly orders Ren who sits up slowly, but Poe doesn't have the time to spare him another glance as he hurries out of the cell and shuts it firmly behind him.

The ship shudders again, accompanied by a drawn-out grinding that sounds more like another ship grating up against them than laser fire. The inertial dampeners do their job but the jolt almost brings Poe to his knees.

He grabs his blaster from the locker and takes off towards the sound of fighting. He doesn't register how sore his body is before he's already in a full sprint, still struggling to get into his clothes as he runs.

He bumps into Alder and some of the others rounding a corner, and to his credit the sergeant only lets his eyes dart over his commander's rumpled appearance for a brief second before he collects himself.

"It's a First Order light cruiser, sir. They disabled our defences and have locked onto a docking port. They're boarding through the cargo hold," he reports as they jog down the hall.

Poe can see as much when they make it to the scene of the fight. They have a small crew onboard for what was supposed to be a simple supply mission, and they aren't equipped to deal with surprise attacks from First Order battle cruisers.

They take cover behind a stack of cargo Poe hopes isn't flammable and return fire, but it's only going to be a matter of time before they are overwhelmed.

The space is crawling with stormtroopers; far more of them than Poe could imagine the First Order wasting on a small supply vessel as theirs. It might be a standard patrol ship that happened to come across their path, but he doubts it.

It is curious, but the middle of a firefight isn't the moment to dwell on it.  
  
Poe disengages from the rest of the group when he spots Arana and starts edging his way towards him. His progress comes to an abrupt end when he suddenly finds himself tackled to the floor.

It's a shamefully sloppy tackle, even by stormtrooper standards. He ends up on the floor behind a stack of crates with his assailant heavy on top of him, a knee in his ribs and two hands tearing to get at his throat.

The scent hits him just as hard. Alpha; that bitter, revolting rut-stench that's enough to make Poe gag at this close proximity, and he can't understand why anyone is such a state would be taking part in the assault. Even stranger coming from an organization that prides itself on order and uniformity.

They grapple for a while but the other man has the benefit of leverage and size on his side and Poe can't prevent his hands from closing around his throat. Poe's feet kick out. His blaster has skittered out of his reach and he tears at his assailant, feeling wool and stiff textile under his hands rather than the smooth alloy of a trooper uniform, and what the hell is an officer doing brawling in a storage hold?

"I'm going to kill you," the officer is gritting out between his teeth, tendrils of bright-red hair escaping its pomade, and Poe is having a bit of a hard time understanding him; something about gouging Poe's eyes out, and Poe believes he would if his hands weren't so busy strangling him.

The air around them is alight with sparks and flashing lasers, and Poe is pinned under a deranged alpha who's trying to strangle him with his bare hands. His only hope is that the man is hit by a stray shot or that one of his friends spots his kicking legs. And the fact that he is going to die in a state of utter confusion just add insult to injury.

Black overcomes his vision. The sound of blood in his ears grows deafening and he can feel the strength slipping from him - and then he's released.

The alpha on top of him picks up on the scent first, sits up with all of his attention instantly diverted in the second it takes for Kylo Ren to come to a stop a few feet apart from them.

He's dressed in most of his uniform, most notably sans his helmet which is tucked under one arm, and his face looks even more out of place now that Poe has seen it sweet and softened with pleasure.

And in hindsight maybe fucking the sense _back_ into a force-wielding prisoner wasn't the brightest idea Poe has ever had, but he doesn't regret it. At least not yet.

He just hopes Ren didn't kill anyone during his escape.

Ren is still distracting - hot and flushed and a little dazed; his scent less 'I'm in pain', and more 'come back to bed,' but even if he didn't look like he'd just been fucked four ways from Benduday, any alpha with a nose would be able to pick up on it from a mile away.

He doesn't just smell of his heat anymore, but of Poe; something the other alpha can't possibly mistake, and the redhead's face twists in fury and-

Oh. _Oh!_ Poe thinks. _This is the lousy lay._

The ginger gets off him and staggers towards Ren, stiff with rage - he's holding himself so tightly. Poe coughs and pulls himself up into a sitting position against the wall, trying to make himself as inconspicuous as possible while he catches his breath.

There are a general's stripes on the officer's uniform. In a hold. On a cargo ship. Brawling.

He slaps Ren across the face and the impact of his hand rings in Poe's ears louder than the pew-pew of laser fire, but not quite as loud as the shout of a trained military officer at full lung capacity.

"You _imbecile_! How dare you- I can- !" He cuts off with a strangled sound as if a human throat isn't equipped to handle the full extent of his fury. "You were supposed to reconvene with the fleet _last week!_ "

He moves progressively closer during his diatribe until the two of them are practically nose to nose, but Ren doesn't do anything - looks mildly confused - until the officer grabs him by the collar. " _You_ did this. You let that scum put his hands on you because you can't follow simple directions on a schedule!"

It's a ridiculous sight to see two grown men squabbling like children in the middle of a firefight as Ren tries to twist out of the officer's grasp. "Calm down - Hux! Let go of me!"

The fighting has died down around them. The stormtroopers are bustling back and forth rounding up their prisoners, seemingly oblivious to the dispute taking place between their commanding officers. All except for the tall silver one who comes to stand at the general's shoulder as if prepared to intervene in case the situation deteriorates further.

Finally Ren shoves the general off him and keeps him at a distance with the help of an invisible force which the alpha still struggles against, fingers straining to get back at him. Ren straightens up to his full height and tilts his head up with as much dignity as he can muster.

"General," he says, voice shaking only slightly as he brushes his hair back into place. "I didn't think you cared. Do try to contain yourself; a rut is no excuse for erratic behaviour."

The general inhales slowly, pulls himself together until he looks more like a person and less like a physical embodiment of rage.

"I will kill you," he says, enunciating clearly, "before I let that man - or anyone else - touch you. Do you understand me?"

A lengthy silence follows, mostly because the fighting is over and done with and no one has anything else to say while the general and Kylo Ren stand there smouldering at each other. Who knows how long they would have kept at it if not for the sudden resurgence of cannon fire from beyond the hull.

"Sir," the silver stormtrooper says, relaying the message from her comm unit. "Another ship just came out of hyperspace and they're firing on the cruiser. We don't have the manpower to withstand them."

The general reluctantly breaks off from his staring match with Ren. "No matter, we have what we came for. All hands retreat and prepare for takeoff."

Then he coolly pulls his blaster from its holster and aims straight at Poe's head.

_So this is how I die_ , Poe thinks, and, _was it really worth it?_

The general fires three shots in quick succession. Poe knows he shouldn't even be hearing them, but rather than disintegrating his face, the beams curve unnaturally off their trajectory and strike the wall at either side of his head.

The general whirls around and snarls at Kylo Ren who slowly lowers his extended arm, his face admirably expressionless although his eyes are a little too wide.

"You _son-of-a-bitch!_ "

"General, you're being petty. It suits you."

Not easily deterred, the general does try to shoot him again but the floor heaves under their feet, causing nearly all of them to fall over and the next shot goes wide by itself.

"Sir!" The silver commander says sharply from where she's ushering the rest off the stormtroopers back onto their own ship. She has the air of a woman who is accustomed to dealing with more than her fair share of nonsense. "Now is _not_ the time."

As if to prove her point the ship jolts again as the First Order cruiser attached to it comes under fire.

Kylo Ren sweeps around dramatically and strides away towards the docking port back to the First Order ship, gait purposeful and unconcerned as if he's only been out on an afternoon stroll.

The General takes off after him like he can't stand to let him out of his sight, his desire to extract his revenge on Poe discarded just like that.

"Wait!" Poe hardly recognizes his voice as it tears through his swollen throat. BB-8 beeps at him from somewhere: a flat, rude sound that has Poe wincing even as he curses his own stupidity. He's going to get himself killed and it's going to be sooner rather than later. He is aware.

The general and the silver trooper both turn around, the alpha's pale eyes burning cold in his still-flushed face. Yeah, crazy doesn't even begin to describe it.

"Just... take better care of him, will you?" Poe calls hopefully. "He's really affectionate once you-"

And then Poe has to break off and roll out of the line of fire when the general starts shooting at him again. He takes cover behind a stack of crates and when the he looks up again their guests have gone.

The ship groans when the other vessel detaches and the comm system buzzes to life, calling Poe to the control room to respond to their timely rescuers.

BB-8 catches up with him as him as he jogs towards the bridge, easily keeping up with his aching body, and Poe could really use a lie-down.

_Acceptable outcome?_ the droid queries.

"I have no idea, buddy," Poe says honestly. "Let's just be glad they're gone."


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to update the tags for this chapter, so please read them and be forewarned. This one is probably not for the faint of heart, although there's a happy ending.

The ride back to the _Finalizer_ is very long and very uncomfortable for everyone involved.

Hux holds off until they get back to the _Finalizer_ , but the moment they step off the shuttle he's propelling Kylo forward, the hand hovering over his back shaking with poorly-repressed fury.

People avert their eyes when they see them .

Curiously Kylo finds himself led to the general's quarters rather than his own. The moment the door closes behind them Hux loses what little grip he has on his composure. He drags Kylo over to his desk and shoves him down on his knees before it.

" _Stay!_ "

The helmet gives with a hiss and a click and Kylo puts it aside on the floor. His clothes smell of sex and resistance pilot. He knew it before, but it's even more jarring now in this place that is so purely Hux. The room is so sterile it barely even smells of him; the scent of laundry detergent and recycled air is prevalent.

Kylo hasn't been in there very often. The general has always visited his quarters for their... appointments, even when he's in a rut. Kylo has never quite figured out whether that is because he's being polite or if he just doesn't want Kylo in his personal space. Either way, he appears to have changed his mind.

Hux descends to his level just long enough to methodically strip him down to his waist. He pulls the shirt over Kylo's head, taking some skin along with it when his nails rake over his back. Kylo shakes his head loose of the collar and doesn't resist when Hux pins his wrists to the table under one hand.

Kylo looks up at him. It's dark in the room - Hux didn't bother with the lights, but there's enough to see by, barely. Hux's chest heaves with harsh but controlled breaths through his nose, jaw clenched and his hand rhythmically tensing at his side.

He's deliberately avoiding looking at Kylo; talking himself out of it and back into his general-sized box.

"Is that it?" Kylo asks - feels the responding chill in his spine when Hux turns his pale eyes on him.

From his perspective Kylo has a perfect view of Hux's fingers curling around the buckle of his belt and snapping it open.

The leather makes a sound when it falls loose, even before he swings it. The click of the buckle; the creak of leather as Hux folds it and Kylo holds his breath.

Hux doesn't warm up. The sound hits him just before the pain does - a thin whistle through the air and then the snap of it colliding with skin. The belt is wide but it feels like a cutting knife at impact before the sting ebbs down into something manageable.

He bites his lip with enough force to taste blood in his mouth on the next stroke but he still can't prevent the sound that forces its way up his throat. Hux hits him a cross the shoulders and he finds himself flinching away from it despite himself. He sits up straight before Hux can berate him.

"Harder," he gasps. " You hit like a rebel."

The next blow lands right in the track of the previous one. Kylo doesn't make any effort to keep in his voice.

"The only thing I want to hear from you right now is screaming."

Hux's voice is deceptively level when Kylo can feel the turmoil under it. He's exuding fury so intensely that Kylo can taste it in the air, like the haze of smoke over a drug den. He feeds on it like he's been starving for it his entire life, and he has never realized it was a possibility before now; to draw on Hux's anger when his own isn't enough.

His toes curl in boots at the next lash, tears spilling over his cheeks and he gasps for air, draws in hate and anger with his breath. Kylo is no stranger to pain, but there's something different about it when you don't have any control over it; where the lashes fall or how hard, or for how long.

It becomes almost unbearable. The heat that blossoms up under his skin makes him feel feverish and tears and sweat drip down his nose onto the floor. His fingers strain in a desperate bid to touch Hux who's impervious to his cries or his whimpers, but Hux only presses down on his hands harder.

When Hux finally relents Kylo suspects it's because he can't raise his arm anymore.

The pain doesn't stop when Hux does. Every nerve in his body is inflamed with it, every thought, and he can barely tell apart what hurts from what doesn't.

Hux kneels down next to Kylo, collapses, nearly, breathing just as heavily. "You're making a mess of my floor," he states, presses gloved fingers into Kylo's open spit-wet mouth.

His fingers leave a wet trail over Kylo's cheek when he grips his hair. "You reek of him." His arm trembles and Kylo can feel him suppressing the urge to pick his belt up again.

Hux _pulls_ and almost takes his hair out by the root when Kylo's legs buckle. He staggers to his feet, twisting to follow Hux as he steers them towards the refresher, hopefully without stumbling or losing any hair in the process.

The light in there is blinding in Kylo's already stinging eyes, and he feels shaky and unsteady when Hux shoves him inside with the single order to 'strip' while he does the same. Kylo has never seen such blatant disregard for a dress uniform before.

When he doesn't comply quickly enough Hux helps him - if it can be called that.

It occurs to him that Hux's 'fresher is actually smaller than his, although there's a wide bathtub under the shower which Kylo is shoved into without further preamble, still struggling to get out of his pants.

The sudden onslaught of water on his back in agonizing, too hot, and he crumbles to the floor with a whimper, shifting out of the spray to press himself against the cool wall instead.

Hux rolls his eyes at him as if he's being needlessly dramatic but he adjusts the water. Kylo flinches back when he crouches down before to him, but Hux takes no notice and immediately starts yanking at his soaked clothes.

"This would have been easier if they weren't wet," Kylo feels the need to point out, feeling every shift and movement pull on his back. He wonders if Hux broke the skin.

"Shut the fuck up," Hux tells him bluntly. And, "get up," as soon as his feet are free.

His hands slap up against the wall to save himself from being shoved head-first into it, but he lets Hux manhandle him; kick his legs apart even when it nearly causes him to fall over.

The water is far from comfortable but it's alright, just warm enough to offset his inflamed nerves, and he washes off what feels like days of sweat and dirt and the evidence of his and Poe Dameron's very brief romance, half-dried into his skin already. He leans his forehead against the wall to cool the flush on his face when Hux's hands find the insides of his thighs where the mess is worst.

The general still isn't happy until he's three fingers deep in him, chasing the last traces of the other Alpha's come and fucking him almost as an afterthought; Fingers wriggling and plunging without any care or desire to make it pleasurable for him.

That shouldn't rile him up, but it does. His cock is dripping, hard and wanting, and he shifts his hips back to keep it from brushing against the tiles - back into Hux.

Kylo's teeth stutter together, knees threatening to buckle, and he rests more heavily against the wall hoping it'll keep his body from shaking.

The fingers withdraw and Kylo has a second to regret the loss before he feel the head of Hux's cock against his opening; the hot coil of pleasure and humiliation in the pit of his stomach at how easily it slides inside.

Hux's fingers press bruises into his hips, pulling him back to meet every thrust while he builds up his pace.

"I know I was first," Hux murmurs, barely audible over the rushing water.

Kylo doesn't confirm or deny. He's so close and he reaches down to get himself off but before he can Hux's hand is there, grasping the base of his cock.

He whimpers and squirms under Hux's too-tight grip, one hand braced against Hux's arm even though he doesn't do anything to stop him.

"You are not a slut, and you are not going to spread your legs, like a whore, for any fucking alpha who happens comes across you when you feel like it."

"But I did like it," he says, softly, proud of how well he keeps his voice level.  
  
There's probably a limit to how far Kylo can safely push Hux, especially if he isn't planning on stopping him, but safety is the furthest thing from his mind just then.

He toys with the idea of giving the general a first-person view of some of it; Poe's fingers pressing into the back of his knee; his tongue against the crease of his thigh - but honestly Hux is doing well enough on his own; feeding his rage compulsively like and open wound he can't help sticking his fingers in.

Hux's hips snap forward, angled just so to hit his prostate, the beginning of his knot stretching at his rim, and Kylo feels his body fluttering, clenching down around him; the first spark of orgasm flashing through him, only to be painfully staved off by Hux's hand clamping down hard around the base of his cock.

It _burns_ and he cries out, tearing uselessly at Hux's fingers that won't budge - only press down harder until he gives up and places his hand against the wall, drawing in one sobbing breath after another.

"Don't do that again," he begs, marvelling at how small his voice sounds.

"Say it."

He winces, says, "I'm not a slut," and Hux's grip turns gentle before the words have even tumbled out of his mouth; sweet relief when he brings him off with no more than a few strokes even though it's just shy of stinging through his still-sore cock.

He blinks water out of his eyes, disoriented for a second. The water has shut off, having reached the allocated limit even for an officer's use. He reaches back and braces one hand against Hux's hip when he shoves forward, yelps when the bulb of the knot first breaches him and slips out again. "Wait, bed."

Of course Hux doesn't listen to him. His knot swells and on the next thrust it sticks, locking them together although Hux keeps grinding inside of him in small, jarring movements until Kylo feels him start to come.

He huffs out an aggravated breath because now they're _stuck_ like this for the foreseeable future.

His feet slip on the floor and his legs threaten to give out; the small of his back aches from the angle he's forced into, and the refresher wall is cold and about as comfortable to lean on as one would imagine.

"Hux, I want to lie down."

"That's too bad, you spoiled fucking brat, it's not going to happen."

Kylo knows for a fact that he drives Hux to discover new heights of infuriation on a weekly basis, and the feeling is mutual, but he has never actually heard him swear like this before. Anger and anxiety and insufferable smugness is what he is accustomed to from Hux - not whatever this. He sounds tired.

"One day. You couldn't have waited for _one fucking day_."

They stay like that for a while, but eventually they manage to shift down to the floor in the most awkward and graceless manoeuvre conceivable. Hux complains about the floor being too cold and him being too heavy. Kylo is relatively comfortable on top of him.

He manages to drift off somehow, head tilted back between Hux's shoulder and the wall, because he's startled awake some time later by Hux tipping him out of his lap and dragging him up by his arm.

He lets Hux pull him into the bedroom, still dripping wet from his hair which is going to be a mess. He's thrown down on the bed none too gently and gasps at the touch of the bedcovers under the raw skin of his back.

Hux's hand comes down sharp and stinging on his thigh when he tries to roll over. "Stay put."

Kylo finds himself nodding in acquiescence without really thinking about it, and it's the easiest thing in the world to say yes to him once he has made up his mind to do so. Hux pins him down under the cage of his body, and if Kylo expected that first orgasm to appease him, he was wrong.

Hux swoops down to lock their mouths together. Kylo feels unsettlingly like he's still falling backwards and he grasps onto Hux, framing his face between his hands and pushing his fingers into his hair while Hux coaxes his mouth open. It still feels odd; new but not bad, much like the sheets chafing against his back with every shift of the mattress.

The way Hux presses his legs open is new, too, but even worse than that is the sudden and overwhelming hunger Kylo has for him, worse than when it's just the heat. He's almost out of it, so Kylo can't explain why he feels like having Hux tied to him is the most important thing in the world.

Hux isn't exhibiting any more patience than he is and he pushes inside just like that, pulls Kylo's hips into his lap and hold him still while he drives himself home.

He pauses once he's fully sheathed. His head is bowed, wet hair falling into his eyes messily, and it's the first time Kylo has been able to see him like that; undone.

"You're wondering whether he fucked me on my back." It comes out of his mouth with a burst of laughter.

The sudden shock of Hux's fist against his face makes him moan before the pain sets in. His nose stings and tears well up in his eyes by reflex, but the look on Hux's face is _so good_ , stunned and furious - like he's more surprised than Kylo is that he hit him.

He arches his back against the pressure of Hux's cock inside of him, brushing over his prostate with the next hard thrust , and when he draws his lip into his mouth he tastes blood.

Hux's usually shuttered face is as easy to read as his surface thoughts, which he is broadcasting like an alarm signal for anyone with the barest sensitivity to the force to pick up on. All violence and murder and mortally wounded pride. Oh, Hux can't hurt him, but he would _try_. The only thing keeping Hux from killing him is his desire to keep him. He can feel it.

When he closes his eyes he sees his own blood painting Hux's hands; his own heart bursting between Hux's clenched fingers.

"You poor thing," Kylo says. "You're taking this so hard. You really don't like other people touching your things."

Hux slaps him across the face. Open handed, it's like a caress compared to his burning back and the throb in his nose. He never stops fucking him, and Kylo grasps at the tangle of thoughts that swarm around him like loose threads. "You feel like someone has trespassed on your quarters. Your home. Is that what I am?"

"Shut up."

The hand that grips his throat isn't all that tight. Kylo only shifts to let it settle better until Hux's grip is spanning the length of his throat; doesn't question why that feels as good as it does, just sinks into the bed, his legs tightening around Hux's hips on their own accord and pulling him in harder every time he pulls away.

Hux leans down to kiss him again, stealing more of his breath while he shoots off inside of him, shuddering with relief. When Kylo comes it's like every sore, hurting part of his body is pulling together to push him over.

Hux slumps down half on top of him, locked securely together as they are, and it's only one of many awkward positions Kylo has been in during the last day or so, but it feels so good now. Every voice in his head has gone quiet in exaltation.

When Kylo turns his head they're almost nose to nose and he's stunned to see how wet Hux's green eyes are. Hot tears are still welling out of them and Hux looks horrified by this unexpected biological reaction in his body.

Kylo blames his still stinging nose when he feels his own eyes prickling in response. His vision swims and he draws in a shuddering breath, and then there's no stopping the way his breath stalls in his chest and the sudden tide of water in his eyes.

" _What the hell is this?_ " Hux whispers, genuinely alarmed, but he puts his hands on Kylo's face, brushes away the first tears until he gives up and just cups the back of his neck; grip firm but gentle.

Kylo returns the favour and it occurs to him that it's really the first time he has touched him.

He feels Hux's breath even out into sleep before his own.

\-----

Kylo wakes up sometime in the middle of the night to the touch of his own fingers restlessly running over his arm. He rolls over to face Hux who's finally asleep, deeply. So close that the air is warm and muggy between them.

He nudges him awake, too tired to really be efficient about it, but that restless, nagging itch won't go away. He isn't even sure which one of them it's coming from.

Hux grumbles and rolls over on top of him, half-asleep and barely functional, breath deep and slow in his ear and a bit too heavy on Kylo's hurting back; just sort of ruts against him blindly until Kylo reaches back and guides him inside.

He comes awake slowly and his pace remains relaxed. Like waves lapping against the shore. Kylo almost feels like he could go to sleep like that.

He can tell the exact moment Hux remembers - when his nails dig into Kylo's wrists and the softness of his mouth turns into teeth. Kylo huffs into the bedding, amused because it only rankles Hux further.

When the teeth in his shoulder become a bit too persistent Kylo pushes him away, putting the force behind it like he's swatting an unruly dog. "No."

Hux growls at him but his mouth shifts away from that tender bundle under his skin that might force a bond, mouthing farther up the side of his neck and digging in just under his jaw. Kylo keeps his head arched back, leaving his throat open and making it just that little bit more difficult to draw air into his lungs.

He can't move his hands but every roll of their hips grinds his cock into the mattress, and that's enough. When he comes it's as gentle as slipping underwater. It's almost disappointing until the rest of his body follows and he's blown over by the bone-deep sense of relief and contentment that washes over him.

Hux comes with a groan, pressing his forehead into Kylo's shoulder. It's a pained, defeated sound. "I will _never_ forgive you." He promises. The way he says it makes it sound like an oath.

The light feeling in Kylo's chest builds up until it escapes from his mouth in the form of laughter. He hardly recognizes the sound when it bursts out of him - he can't remember the last time he laughed, but he does now, for a long time. While Hux squeezes his aching ribs and grumbles into his skin, his arms grounding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who has stuck with me on this crazy ride. This is the first work I've posted off-anon in ten years or so, and the response has been overwhelmingly supportive and encouraging. I love this little trash heap.
> 
> And a big thanks to Nick Cave's Murder Ballads album which was on repeat throughout.


End file.
